


Mount Olympus Also Rises

by curtaincall



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crack, First Time, Fluff and Crack, Humor, M/M, Pillow Talk, SURE DID JUST CREATE THOSE TWO RELATIONSHIP TAGS, i mean they literally talk about pillows but also the other kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-24 20:41:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22264153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curtaincall/pseuds/curtaincall
Summary: “Yes, well,” Aziraphale said, “suffice it to say that Iamsomewhat experienced in carnal matters.”“You fucked Apollo,” Crowley said, flatly.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Apollo, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley/Poseidon
Comments: 47
Kudos: 480
Collections: marginaliana's Good Omens recs





	Mount Olympus Also Rises

**Author's Note:**

> This is nothing more or less than my proposed solution to the dilemma of "what to do if you don't want them to have slept with humans but also don't want them to be virgins when they first hook up." Do with it what you will.

Things, Aziraphale thought with the part of his brain that still had its higher functions engaged, were going rather well. It turned out that silk sheets felt absolutely _lovely_ against one’s skin, and, more importantly, so did a flushed and eager Crowley, who’d only stopped trailing kisses down Aziraphale’s bare chest in order to yank his own shirt over his head. 

He was taking a bit too long with it, however (Aziraphale was rapidly deciding that anything longer than a nanosecond was too long a separation from Crowley’s mouth), and Aziraphale rolled his (still clothed, for now) hips up towards Crowley’s by way of inducement to _get back down here, my dear boy._

Crowley made a sound like spaghetti going down a garbage disposal and rapidly resumed his lingual ministrations, which were now heading in a substantially more southern direction vis-a-vis Aziraphale’s torso.

He stopped just north of the navel, and pulled his head up.

“Is something wrong?” Aziraphale asked, suddenly worried. “You’re all right?”

“Oh—” Crowley let out a shaky exhale through his teeth—“oh, yeah, I’m _very_ all right, very good, no problems at _all,_ really, it’s just—”

“What?”

“I was wondering,” Crowley said, slowly, “whether you’d ever done this. Before.”

“Oh,” said Aziraphale, a bit surprised. “Well. Yes, actually.”

Crowley un-straddled Aziraphale _(not_ an ideal development) and sank back next to him on the bed. “With a _human?”_

“Oh, goodness, no,” Aziraphale said, in the tone he used to point out grammatical errors on billboards. It wasn’t that he didn’t _like_ humans, in the aggregate. He’d even grown quite fond of a few of them on an individual basis, over the years. But they were, fundamentally, a different species, and he’d never been able to see the mortal/immortal divide as anything other than insurmountable, at least for prurient purposes.

“Then…” Crowley fished. “Not another _angel?”_ he asked, teasingly, and then, “or another _demon,”_ which wasn’t quite so teasing.

“No, no,” Aziraphale said quickly, thinking for the briefest of moments about sex with Sandalphon and deciding firmly that such things were _not_ to be thought about if one wished to keep one’s dinner down, “not...no.”

“Then _who?”_ Crowley asked.

“Mmm,” said Aziraphale, and wriggled a bit further under the sheets. “Do you remember Apollo?’

Crowley raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Blond fellow? Quite good at archery? Member of the Hellenic Pantheon? Yeah, rings a bell.”

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale said, “suffice it to say that I _am_ somewhat experienced in carnal matters.”

“You fucked _Apollo,”_ Crowley said, flatly. “Your ethereal V-card got punched by Mr. No-Doesn’t-Mean-No-Unless-You’re-A-Literal-Tree.”

“Not his finest hour,” Aziraphale conceded. “But you don’t have to make it sound so _crass._ He was...nice. To me. For quite a while, actually.”

“You had a full-blown _affair_ with Apollo,” Crowley clarified. 

“Yes,” said Aziraphale, “and then he started writing the most _dreadful_ poetry about me, and it all got rather awkward.”

Crowley made a disbelieving sound. “I mean, he’s a literal _deity,_ can’t have been _that_ bad.”

“He rhymed,” Aziraphale said with delicate horror, “ _angel_ with _bagel.”_

“Oof,” Crowley said. “Yikes.”

“There were a number of analogies drawn in re: _holes_ that I found _most_ distasteful,” Aziraphale said, shuddering. 

“Yeah,” said Crowley, sympathetically. “Some things can’t be forgiven.”

There was a pause, and Crowley shifted his weight in a way that seemed to indicate that perhaps matters might begin to resume the direction they’d been heading in earlier.

Aziraphale coughed. “And…” He infused his tone with a note of mild inquiry. “For your part…”

“Uh.” Crowley turned a very interesting shade of mauve. “You know, it’s—ah, it’s _funny,_ cause, it seems that I kind of, well, kept it in the family. So to speak. With your... _paramour.”_

Aziraphale’s eyebrows shot up. “Not _Zeus?_ Oh, Crowley, _don’t_ tell me that there’s a myth I haven’t heard where the young man gets transfigured into a _snake,_ because—”

Crowley shook his head vigorously. “No, no, uh, I know what’s good for me. Or, well, at least I know enough to avoid _that._ No, uh, Poseidon.”

_“Really,”_ Aziraphale said, and leaned back against the pillows. “Most intriguing.”

"Right," said Crowley, defensively, "well, look, not to put too fine a point on it, but sometimes you need someone who knows his way around _any_ kind of serpent, and ‘sea’ is the only variety available."

“Indeed?” asked Aziraphale. “And I don’t suppose you have anything to report in the _trouser_ _trident_ department—”

Crowley groaned. “Look, you and old Anyway-Here’s-Wonderwall have more in common than you think, because that was a truly _cursed_ joke—”

Aziraphale hit him with a pillow. “You take that back.”

“ _You_ stop using my memory foam as a weapon,” Crowley retorted. 

“You,” Aziraphale said, lolling backward again, “can please find some _other_ use for your mouth than arguing with me.”

Crowley levered himself up, grinning. “Oh, can I?”

“Well,” said Aziraphale, pretending to think, “why don’t I ask _Poseidon—”_

This proved very effective in terms of refocusing Crowley’s oral energies.

Some time later, after matters had reached a mutually satisfying conclusion, Crowley stirred in Aziraphale’s arms.

“Hey,” he said, quietly, “you’re not actually, I don’t know, _jealous,_ or anything, right? Because it’s not as though—it’s not like it was the same. I mean, he was a nice enough guy, for a god, but. Not _you.”_

Aziraphale ran a hand through Crowley’s hair. “Of course not,” he said. “I certainly don’t have any complaints about any _techniques_ you may have picked up, so it would be quite rude of me to object. You don’t,” he added, “feel any sort of resentment about _my_ erstwhile endeavors, I hope?”

Crowley laughed. “Nah, I think I know enough not to get a complex about that. I mean, first of all, _truly_ dreadful poetry. And, after all, I _did_ know him myself. Not _biblically_ ,” he added, quickly, “just knew the guy.”

“Mmm?” Aziraphale asked. “I hadn’t realized you’d met Apollo.”

Crowley grinned widely. “What, didn’t I ever mention my stint as the Oracle of Delphi?”

Aziraphale, to his own surprise, let out a snort. “I suppose,” he said, shaking his head, “that it’s good to know that even after all this time, there’s still more to learn about one another.”

_“So_ much more,” said Crowley, and moved his hand slightly.

“Oh, _indeed,”_ said Aziraphale, liking where this was going _very_ much.

There was no further discussion of Greek gods that evening.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Mount Olympus Also Rises](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23816737) by [elizabethelizabeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizabethelizabeth/pseuds/elizabethelizabeth)




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